Pop Singer: A Dark BWAM / AMBW Romance (17 page)

“You’re delicious,” he whispered into my ear again, “absolutely a fine delight.”

And like that, Jong-soo became unstable, the atoms of his body ripping away into nothingness, his hair being tossed aside like an old toupee. He whisked like an egg being made into batter, his body disappearing into blackness.

I woke up breathing heavily. My pussy throbbed. My body ached, just as if he had been there with me. I glanced at my alarm clock on my phone.

6 AM, still too early.

I went back to sleep, dreaming about senseless nothing, but knowing I would return to the world were Jong-soo Jeup truly existed. Maybe I wouldn’t have sex with them, but—

Girl, who was I kidding. I wanted to have sex with him. I wanted him to fuck me.

♥♥♥

I woke up at around 8 AM the next morning. I was bright and early, ready to go. Coordinating with Higher Museum, I knew I would be picked up in only a couple of hours. Straight away, I would be brought down into Daegu and have myself a blast, finally.

After all of that travel, after fighting with my dad, Latasha, and even myself about whether or not I was good enough to go—well, here I was! I turned on my iPhone, hopped out of bed, and grabbed my laptop.

I wrote an email to Higher Museum. They responded practically immediately, as if they were waiting patiently on the other end.

…don’t forget to do some last-minute sightseeing in Seoul! You’re going to miss it dearly.

I thought it was a strange email at first, considering there is definitely no time for sightseeing.

Should I have been seeing monuments? Were they going to grill me about the local art scene up here?

Were they going to think me barbaric for not going out and experiencing city life upon my arrival in Korea?

I didn’t want to seem like an outcast already! But I calmed myself down. This email came with a picture of a woman smiling, who I presumed was the person talking to me.

Ming. Which sounded Chinese, not Korean. But I didn’t want to be overly judgmental. Maybe she was half?

Going to the bathroom, I washed my face, took a quick shower, and got back out. Then I sifted through my wardrobe, finding what I would wear for the day. I wanted something casual but attention grabbing, something that would declare me as an artist but at the same time American. I wanted to make a stake on my claim as
the
sculptor, dressed to impress and all that.

I chose a pair of wedge sandals, a floral sundress, and a long brimmed hat that went neatly around my head. I checked myself in the mirror before going, and then brushed my teeth.

“I’m going to have a great day,” I said to myself. I had read online that if you talk yourself up, you would have a better day. So I repeated the phrase, “I’m going to have a great day. I’m going to have a…”

Once they finished up, I gathered up my luggage and called up for room service. The bellboy from yesterday blushed again, and I wondered why. He repeated what he had the night before, turning deep red.

“Thank you,” I said, in Korean. I said it again in English, instinctively, still drawing upon my wealth of knowledge from the West. I would have to wean myself off speaking English so much.

We went downstairs together, and then I found my cab waiting for me outside by the sidewalk. My bellhop put my bags inside the back.

I stuffed myself in the passenger seat. The driver had a friendly face, whistling a Korean pop song. And this driver was older as well—it seemed the Korean wave had spread to the elders.

My driver asked something in Korean. I only understood bits and pieces, but I was able to piece together the meaning. “Flying somewhere far away?”

“Not too far,” I said. “Just to Daegu.”

Once at the airport, I made my way to the central terminal, looking for a man wearing a beret, as the email had instructed me to do.

…he should be around five feet six in height. He’s not too tall, so you might miss him. Don’t tell him I said that, okay? Just a secret between you and me LOL…

The man waved at me, was carrying a sign that read, HENRIETTA in bold lettering. I flagged him down, hugging him tight, feeling exuberant about my prospects. Finally, I was here in Korea and about to make headway in my journey.

The man nodded at me, but like many of the Koreans I had met, he did not speak English very well. We did a bunch of sign language with our arms, waving in the air, jumping up and down, and pointing—he took me to an airplane hangar at the far back of the airport, alongside huge jets and smaller planes. He selected one of the smallest, helping me with my luggage. I strapped my seatbelt on, looking out the window.

Just then, I received another email.

Hey again, it’s Ming. Did you find the pilot? Good. I’m glad. Listen, when you land, don’t panic or anything. Daegu looks kind of remote. We’ll be waiting for you at the ground level though, you’ll see us there; we’re going to have such a great time. And we’re so excited over here. Talk to you soon?

I typed that I was excited, and that I would talk to them soon. Only a couple of hours, and then we would be together, Jong-soo and I.

The specifics of my stay in Korea were pretty firm. I would exhibit a lot of my sculptures during the day, and have plenty of free time at the night to work with other artists in the museum.

It was hinted that Jong-soo Jeup would pop in frequently, that we might be able to work together. The horizon seemed to be getting brighter and brighter. Ming emailed me about my sculptures, telling me that they were already at the museum, ready to be unveiled for my final touches. We would work all day on arranging everything as they should be. And then I would get a tour around Daegu, we would have lunch…

I folded my hands together, watching the horizon as we took off from Seoul International Airport. I glanced at the tarmac, the people below waving at us with their glow sticks, the air traffic controllers.

I grinned at them, waving them off. Then we taxied and lifted for the air, the engine roaring behind me.

“Do you like the country?” the pilot said, half in Korean, half in English. “It’s a very beautiful place, the countryside of Korea.”

“I can imagine that it is. I’ve seen the pictures online. It’s beautiful.”

“The Internet doesn’t do us justice at all. What you’re going to see, it’s going to be more than what you get.”

“That sounds… I’m just so happy to be here.”

My voice was trembling. I hands? Shaking. I could not be a wreck when I came to see the Higher Museum. So to put myself in a happy place, I thought about rain.

Washing down my skin, over my eyes, and into my very flesh, gentle, unending, unyielding.

The thought of rain eliminating all of my sorrow, my pain.

And starting anew. In a brand new world.

After a couple of hours of inbound flight, the plane dipped low in the air, and my heart jumped. Here it was! Daegu. The land where I would see Jong-soo. Where I would meet him, my idol.

A popstar I had been waiting to meet for what seemed like ages now. Of course, there was still Korea to explore, and even if things didn’t work out so well with him—not that I was expecting marriage, I wasn’t crazy—the rest of the countryside would be to my advantage, my taste.

I was going to make this an experience of a lifetime. One I would not forget ever, and one that I planned to brag about to dad and Latasha.

“Here we go,” the pilot said, dipping lower and lower. A brush of trees stretched along rolling hills and jagged mountains. There were tall cell phone towers breaking along a mist, a fog. And brown landscaping, dirt and terraces leading downwards into a valley, skyscrapers breaking for the clouds.

As we got closer and closer to the city, I realized we were not headed towards the airport. “Are we not going to land there?” I said, cheerily.

“I’m taking you to a secret airport,” the pilot said. “It’s going to be a special place for you and you alone.”

There was a sinister tone to his voice, almost like he was hiding something from me. I watched his eyes as a tinge of evil sparked light in the center of his brown irises. What was going on? Then a smirk drew across his face. Was I being too skeptical? Overly attentive? Anxious for no reason?

There was no reason to suspect anything malicious of the sort. But my sixth sense—the way you can tell when someone is looking at you from behind—kicked in.

We drew further and further away from the city grounds, the International Airport pulling from the sky, disappearing behind a ridge of rugged spires, sloping arms of a hill.

“This is going to be a rough ride,” the pilot said. He laughed, as if he was finally unveiling a joke on me, blinding me with acid.

“What are you?”

The plane careened for the earth, speeding faster and faster, and I screamed.

I reached over for him, punching his shoulder, but that would not do anything. He simply shrugged me off, pushing me against the door of the aircraft. I nearly opened it! I held onto my seat, flailing my arms against him. “What are you doing?”

“Relax a bit, and you’ll see it.”

I breathed in and out heavily, as if someone had gagged me. My lungs were on fire, ultimately scorched from my anxious behavior.

I looked to the left of me, where the pilot said. I tried to see a way out, some sort of parachute vest for me to wear, a way for me to land safely. The earth sped up against the glass, and then—

The plane shuddered and the wings rattled. I screamed for the mercy of the universe to come help me.

I closed my eyes, not wanting to see any more of what was happening.

A scratching noise raked across the windows. The land jolted us forward, in our seats, the plane itself.

The wheels screeched, and a high-pitched frequency whirred in the air.

I clamped down on my ears, rocking myself against the dashboard.

Then we stopped.

We stopped completely.

I looked to the pilot. He had already gotten out and raced to the back. Something was definitely wrong, an unusual occurrence—

The passenger door opened, and a woman with fair skin stared at me. Her eyes were blue like so many nights past.

“Welcome to Korea,” she said.

I couldn’t remember what language she used.

I blacked out before I could understand completely.

♥♥♥

When I woke up, my mouth was shut tight with tape. My hands were bound together. At first, I couldn’t believe where I was—on the back of a truck, a semi-automatic rifle slung over a woman’s shoulder. The woman from before.

Before I fell into the darkness…

“What’s going on?” I tried to say. But no words could pass the tape. Only muffled mumbles, a strained groan.

The fast and quick talk of Korean chattered about my head. I moved my legs around, although my ankles were taped together as well.

I had been stripped of my luggage. No longer caring my iPhone or laptop, I was brought as a prisoner towards an unknown land with no escape possible.

Trees overhead hung low, brushing my face with leaves. Bushes covered the land, dark dirt kicking up as the truck moved along.

Glimmers and fragments of sunlight broke through the canopy overhead, birds fluttering along with us, as if singing to one another the song of abduction.